greed
by litra
Summary: Terry hates magic. Magic is always a pain, and Wayne sending Terry to visit a consultant on the matter can not be a good thing. one shot, complete. another in my definition collection.


"What is it?"

Terry looked down at the artifact he had retrieved from the break in at the history museum. It was part of a collection that looked like some kind of chemistry set, if it had been made in the middle ages when no one cared about lead poisoning. The three pieces of the set were a small bowl, something that Wayne had called a pestle and a vile made of glazed glass.

Wayne turned, giving him a look as if to say "Isn't it obvious?"

"Okay yeah, but why would anyone want to steal this junk? There was stuff worth way more in that museum."

"Maybe not to them."

"Do you say anything that isn't cryptic?"

"Do you do anything but ask questions?" Wayne took the glass vile and slid it into the scanner.

"Oh I don't know. I punch out bad guys, retrieve stolen artifacts. I mean, there must be some reason you keep me around. So, why'd they take this stuff and not Graham Bell's first telephone or something?"

Terry waited for an answer, arms crossed. He had a bad feeling about this one. Wayne was taking this way more seriously then he should have. When he got this focused on a case there was always a reason, and most often Terry would find out the reason when he stepped into whatever trap was being set. It wasn't like there was even a reason for it. The old man just got these hunches. It was possibly the most annoying thing he had ever lived through, and he wasn't even sure Wayne was aware of it.

Then the old man hmmed and Terry realized that there it was, the hunch, being played out right behind him.

"I know that hmmm. That's the bad hmmm." Terry said turning around to look over the old man's shoulder. He looked at where Wayne had isolated a patch of the bowl's rim under the magnification. There seemed to be a mark under the rim even a symbol of some kind. It was hard to make out because like the glass vial it was covered in soot and grime from years. Really, it was probably nothing, at least that was what any normal person would think. Terry had long since learned that anything like this was going to be something important and like it or not he was going to find out what it all meant.

"Ok what is it?" He said with a sinking voice. This kind of thing wasn't his cup of tea or whatever that old saying was. Bruce pulled the bowl out from the scanner and looked at it in the full lights.

"This is what they were after."

"Please tell me that's a makers mark and these things are just really rare and collectable." He knew it was unlikely but he could hope. Really, there was a chance that this wouldn't turn into something truly crazy right before finals. Right?

Wayne just hmmed which basically translated to no. They did not know why the thieves had been after these things yet or why Terry had found them the way he had. Sweeping the objects for every virus and contagion in the bat computer had come up negative so the objects themselves were the only clue.

Wayne isolated the symbol, enhanced it and ran it through a program that would look for matching symbols in the files and on the web. There were no exact matches of course, there never were with this kind of thing but there was a %91 degree of similarity between their symbol and the closest match which meant they were more then close enough to be considered the same. Terry couldn't see any differences apart from the fact that the new image was done in some kind of calligraphy.

"So, what does it mean?"

"It's old German." Wayne said offhand looking over the information his systems had unearthed.

"And?"

"Two letters."

"So it is a makers mark." Terry's hopes rose tentatively.

"Not quite."

That's what he had been afraid of. "Okay give it me straight. What is it?"

"I don't know." Bruce turned in his chair. His voice had been flat to the point where Terry would have almost said the old man was actually angry or upset, about whatever this was. Terry waited for him to pass judgement on the situation. It was several minutes before Wayne looked up at him and spoke.

"This falls outside the area of my expertise. I wouldn't consider these items dangerous but given how the thieves were found and the mark I think you should go see a colleague of mine."

Terry rolled that over in his mind before finally coming to an answer that fit the facts. He hesitated to voice the thought but in the end there was only one subject that Bruce Wayne wouldn't claim to be knowledgeable in. "It's magic isn't it."

"I believe so."

"That's really bad isn't it."

"Potentially."

"Slag it."

The two stood without speaking for several minutes before Terry finally let out a long breath. It had already been a long night, and nearing the end of a long week, but the job came first.

"Okay, who's this friend of yours I need to go see?"

Wayne shook his head. "Not tonight. Go get yourself cleaned up, I'll have a letter ready by the time you're done. You can deliver it to him tomorrow after your classes. Terry studied him for a moment, then shrugged. The last time something crazy on this level went down, he had been hearing voices and seeing things that weren't there. This time someone else could handle the crazy stuff.

The letter Wayne handed him was hand written on real stationary rather then being a print out. Terry started to get nervous until Wayne added the mini-drive to the pile. At least he would be going somewhere with power. What he hadn't expected was for the address to be down town, the quieter end maybe, but still. No suite number either, just the address and a name: A. Scott.

"They'll be expecting you."

By the time he got out of school the next day he had come up with dozens if not hundreds of ways this meeting alone could end up with him crazy, cursed, or transformed into a small fuzzy animal. The entrance alone was probably a shady little corner, possibly a storefront, that led you into another dimension. There might be people who looked like demons, and demons who looked like humans and things who looked like nothing in between.

He paused for a moment, considering that thought. In the last three blocks alone he had seen: four people dressed like clowns, two people who spliced themselves into looking like reptiles while a third had bright yellow feathers mixed in with her hair, and a mime. Other dimensions and outer space biker bars had nothing on Gotham. Terry was more then a little comforted by that fact.

He turned a corner and found himself facing an older but elegantly styled building. Steel gray stone and glass mixed to form a roadmap of vertical lines. It was shorter then it's nearest neighbors, office buildings mostly, but had a greater presence and style that drew the eye. Numbers set into a placard next to the doors proclaimed it his destination.

Terry's first instinct was to recheck the numbers. When they had been verified he started looking around for a side entrance, or something. This just couldn't be right.

The name above the door proclaimed the building the offices of Gotham Broadcasting. Terry knew of the company only because Wayne forced him to be familiar with every major business in the city. The firm had been founded in the same era as World War Two, as a radio news agency. It had changed quite a bit since then going through a few different mediums as technology changed, eventually returning to radio and sound engineering. Shriek had worked for them for a short time before trying to start his own company and subsequently being bought out by Powers.

Terry decided it must be a cover, heroes had secret identities, magic people could too. Not all of them would run around showing off like Zattara. He checked the address again, finally setting his shoulders and approaching the door.

Again it wasn't what he expected. Instead of offices or strange endlessly twisting corridors, it looked like a recording studio from the 1950s. Ok so maybe it wasn't all that surprising in retrospect. The decor was done completely in modern-retro, all dark wood and red highlights. Awards hung on the walls along with framed music discs that went back decades. The style caught the eye drawing Terry in.

"Can I help you?"

The secretary on the other hand was apparently cold as nails. She had the general attractiveness that seemed to be a requirement for that profession, but the faint look of disgust on her otherwise carefully bland face ruined the effect.

Terry sized her up at a glance and took his time sauntering forward. People like this secretary generally annoyed him so he didn't bother stoping the impulse to mess with her.

"Yeah, hang on a sec. I've got it here somewhere."

He plopped his bag down on the surface of her desk, knocking over a rack of business cards and the metallic plaque proclaiming the woman's name to be Cecile Burns. He fished around in the bag taking papers, books and other random things out, and thoroughly trashing the formerly pristine surface. It took her several stunned seconds before she could even respond to his presence, now sitting on the edge of the desk and rummaging around in his pockets.

"What do you think you are doing?" she stood as if to put some space between them as well as show her outrage. "Clean this up. Get out now and I won't call security."

Terry looked up from the bag now sitting in his lap as he sat amidst the carefully played randomness. "Me? Oh I'm here to see someone. I just can't seem to remember the name. It was on a letter I had here somewhere." He looked around as if it would appear on top of one of his piles.

Her face was slowly changing colors, it looked like it was turning red at first but the fact that she was holding her breath made it slightly blue as well. Terry kept his face bland. The letter was safely tucked away in the inner pocket of his jacket. The key with people like this was to push them just so far but not far enough so that anyone got called in.

"Young man, this is a respectable establishment. You will leave right now or I will have you forcefully escorted off the property."

"Lady, off the property is half a step outside the door." He gestured over his shoulder at the door he had walked in through. Really he shouldn't push it, she was close to the breaking point now. "Look, I wouldn't be here except Mr. Wayne wanted this delivered in person." He reached into his jacket and showed her the edge of the letter as if he had just remembered where it was. "but if you won't let me through I'll just tell him I couldn't deliver it." He looked down at the letter turning it over. "Hope it's not important. Oh well, Wayne can just email Mr. Scott like everyone else, right?"

Interestingly enough it was the mention of Scott that seemed to rattle her more then dropping the name Wayne. He pretended to ignore her increasing discomfort while shoving everything back into his bag. The secretary finally seemed to make up her mind, scooting around the edge of the desk enough to press the button for the intercom.

"This is Cecile at the front. There's a young man here claiming he has an appointment with Mr. Scott." She paused, listening to the response from her earpiece. "He says he has a delivery. I'll send him away. I know Mr. Scott said no meetings." another pause. "Oh, I see, yes right away."

Terry managed not to grin, but it was close. The confident, slightly snobbish woman from when he had walked in had been revealed as the insecure sheep that she was. It wasn't that he liked breaking people, though he certainly wan't bad at it, but people who looked down on others without earning it bugged him.

She pressed a button on the intercom ending the call, then took a moment to brush nonexistent dust from her desk before sitting down. Terry let her have the moment.

"Mr. Scott is willing to see you." She said, desperately trying to pull together her earlier confident persona. She waved him not towards the main elevators but to a small private elevator set into a hidden alcove. His confidence dropped again. Messing with the secretary had relieved some of the tension that he had had building up, but now things were turning in a direction that brought all his fears back to the forefront of his mind.

The private elevator was again old fashioned, it had actual buttons. The fact that there were only two of them was the disconcerting thing. Then the doors opened and he was being escorted into a private inner office on the top floor by another secretary.

"Thank you Linda, if you could hold my calls for the next hour or so." The blond haired man behind the desk hadn't even bothered to look up.

"Of course, Allen, will there be anything else?"

"No disturbances."

The woman nodded, and closed the door as she left. The man, Mr. A. Scott, or Allen according to his younger and softly beautiful secretary, did not stop typing.

Terry took advantage of Mr. Scott's distraction to take him in. At a glance he looked to be in his mid thirties, with neatly kept blond hair in the first stages of going gray and the build of someone who was physically active without being overly muscled. His eyes were two different colors, the right a clear blue while the left was a vivid green and surrounded by a network of tiny scars. Terry guessed his hight at just under six feet, though it was a bit hard to tell since he was sitting. He was dressed in a black business suit with a deep green tie. He seemed timeless, surrounded by all the dark wood in the office.

It wasn't what Terry had expected, and yet there was still something about it that sent a spark down his spine. It was like a smell that you couldn't identify drifting through the room. Generally it wouldn't be hard to discount it and then forget, but Terry had been looking for it.

"You didn't have to treat Cecile like that. She was just doing her job." Allen finally stopped typing, reading over something that Terry couldn't see from his angle. Finally Allen looked up. He surveyed Terry with a single glance. "So, you're Terry McGinnis."

There were about a million ways Terry could answer that, even more since there hadn't been any particular inflection. He contemplated a snappy comeback or something from the deadpan stairs arsenal before it hit him what the man was doing. He was going to use Terry's response to judge his character.

"You tell me."

One eyebrow rose slightly before Scott pulled on a mask of quiet amusement. "Excuse me?"

Now Terry employed the deadpan stare.

Scott didn't flinch or shiver or any of the other normal reactions. Instead he just waited, as if this was a completely normal situation. Again the man was trying to turn the tables on him. It was starting to get annoying. Patience wasn't one of Terry's strong points but stubborn was definitely one of his traits. He settled back on his heels and refused to lower his gaze. Terry's blue-gray eyes met Scott's mismatched ones for three silent, tense minutes.

When Scott looked away it wasn't because he had lost. His expression was contemplative, like an old man looking back at years gone by. It was strange, seeing such an impression on the face of a man who looked younger then Terry's father had when he died. Scott stood, walking over to a side board and pouring amber liquid into a short glass.

"You have a strong will." Scott said when he had returned to his seat. "That will be useful. But you lack in control. You're rash, impulsive; I'm surprised Bruce hasn't cured you of that yet." He looked up in time to see Terry cross his arms.

Clearly Scott knew more then he should. Terry hated it when Bruce said things like that, when it was some stranger it was fifty times worse.

Scott watched him, seeing all the different emotions playing behind the stern exterior Terry projected. Terry watched him in return. Scott wasn't really bothering to keep up his mask anymore. The amusement, and maybe recognition, in his eyes weren't all that hard to pick out. There was a gentle knowing smile on his lips as he emptied his glass.

"Alright." Scott waived Terry towards the seat in front of his desk. Leaning forward he laced his fingers together and his expression took on a more serious note. "I'll be frank with you since that's what you seem to desire. Yes, I do know who sent you, and who he used to be. He and I have had an agreement for many years now, which I suspect is why he has sent you to me now." He paused, Terry still hadn't taken his seat. "Does Bruce still keep a file on me?"

"He has a file on everyone."

"Everyone who is anyone at least." Scott agreed. "But I'm guessing you haven't seen the file on me." Again Scott leaned forward this time propping his head on his hands. "I'm not one of the bad guys. Bruce wouldn't have sent you to me otherwise, no matter how much he distrusts magic."

The way he said it, with complete honesty and integrity could not have been faked. Alan Scott was either telling the truth or he was a complete psychopath. In Gotham the latter was more likely than the former, but in this case the man had a point. Wayne had sent him there without any cautionary warnings, and he had told Terry to go in as a civilian. If there'd been a good chance of trouble that wouldn't have been the case.

Terry took the seat he had been offered.

"And now we seem to be getting somewhere." Again that smile touched Scott's lips. He held out a hand, clearly expecting Terry to hand over the letter. Terry pulled out the document. He made as if to hand it over but pulled back at the last moment

"Who are you?" The question wasn't laced with sarcasm or anger as it would have been a few minutes before, but the iron in his tone made it very clear he was not moving forward until he knew the answer.

The older man leaned back in his chair. "I'm Alan Scott. And if that doesn't answer your question then you haven't really done your homework. You're certainly not living up to the Batman reputation if you don't even know a public secret like this one." Scott's mismatched eyes fixed lazily on Terry. "Figure it out."

Fury was Terry's first response. How dare he say that Terry wasn't Batman. He didn't know Jack.

Then a cold rational fear. Scott had said that he was Batman. Said it straight out, here in this not very private location. For all Terry knew the older man had lined the place with recording devices, and the wrong words would be as good as a confession.

That got him thinking though, what was Scott's objective? What does he have to gain from this situation? Obviously Scott was more than he appeared. Terry already knew that Scott and Mr. Wayne somehow knew each other. Every bit of evidence he had pointed to Alan Scott being one of the good guys. If that was the case though, why not just tell him who he was? Why draw it out to this strange guessing game? It could have been just a quirk of his personality, but again that wasn't the vibe that Terry was getting.

At its bones the question was an exercise in deduction: who is Alan Scott? Put together all of the facts and observations, discard any assumptions and unfounded theories, work it out.

Fact one: Alan Scott had a trusted relationship with Bruce Wayne. Fact two: Alan Scott had connections to the magical community. Fact three: out of all the members of the magical community that Bruce Wayne knew it was Alan Scott that he, Terry, had been sent to see. Fact four: Terry had been sent to see him not as Batman, but has himself. Fact five: Alan Scott was the head of Gotham Broadcasting. Fact six: Gotham Broadcasting was a surprisingly large and powerful company, despite being based in an outdated system like radio. Fact seven: no matter how talented, a man of Alan Scott's apparent age should not have already been the head of such a company. Fact eight: Alan Scott acted a lot older than he appeared. Fact nine: any man who had managed to earn Bruce's respect would've had to be active in more than just the magical community. Fact 10: Scott had claimed that his identity was a public secret. Fact 11: he had mentioned Will.

What he ended up with then, was a prominent hero whose powers were magically based. A man who the original Batman had probably fought alongside, or at least trusted to watch his back. Someone whose powers granted them near immortality, and lastly had a connection to radio.

The immortality knocked a lot of people off that list, and the fact that it was a public secret meant he wasn't hiding the fact that he was functionally immortal. Once that was established it was actually the connection to the radio station that actually let Terry make the connection. Most of the powerhouses from the age of heroism had emerged later when computers, teleportation and all manner of futuristic technology was practically commonplace. Radio was decidedly ancient; any hero with a connection to it would most likely be equally ancient.

There were very few heroes who had been well known before the Justice League formed. Though there had been a few of them with magically based powers, even a few who could claim partial immortality, there was only one that dealt with will.

Terry looked down at the oversized class ring on the middle finger of Scott's right hand. The large green stone had looked tacky when Terry had first noticed it. Now the stone looked less like old bottle green glass and more like what it really was: the power source for one of Earth's most powerful defenders. The singular master of the Starheart, Alan Scott, the Green Lantern.

Terry didn't know how to react. One of the greatest heroes ever sitting on the other side of the desk from him, and all Terry had managed to do so far was act like just another punk kid. He was supposed to be better than that, he was supposed to be Batman. It wasn't like Scott, or even his alternative persona of Green Lantern, was all that active nowadays. This particular Green Lantern had retired a long time ago. Even back when the age of heroism was still going on he was mostly a mentor figure. It really wasn't any wonder that he was overlooked half the time.

Terry looked up at Scott and cursed himself. The man was reading him again, and like a dolt he had given everything away. It was so much easier to hide things with the mask, he was going soft.

Alan Scott nodded. "Good, now that we are on the same page." Again he held out his hand for the letter, and this time Terry consented to hand it over. Although Terry knew the subject of the letter he didn't know what it actually said. He had considered trying to open it and then seal it again, but he just didn't have the skill set to hide the evidence. Honestly, who used letters anymore? Instead, he watched Allen's face as his eyes quickly scanned over the contents.

He spread the letter out, smoothing it onto his desk when he was finished. As he had read the letter his face had gone from polite interest, through into a shade of concern. Scott took a moment to ponder what he had learned. Standing, he picked up his glass and once again moved to the bar to fill it. With another half-inch of amber liquid, he moved over to the window. Terry could see his expression reflected off the glass as Scott surveyed the city.

Scott took a breath, held it for a minute as he pondered his exact words, then spoke. "Give me the facts."

Terry leaned forward in his seat, using the movement to hide glancing at the letter. It didn't say much, briefly outlining the situation, mostly. He looked at Scott again trying to decide if this was another test of some sort. It probably was, but it was also a request for information.

A part of Terry didn't want to be here. He didn't like asking for help. Wayne was one thing, but he was more of a teacher, a sensei, not some random person. And Scott was just another random person as far as Terry was concerned. He may have been a legendary hero once upon a time, but Terry didn't know him, and that made all the difference. The problem was that he couldn't solve this on his own.

He laid out the facts on what had happened with cold precision. The story wasn't very long.

The break-in had happened two nights ago. The security at the Historical Sciences Museum had been bypassed at approximately 12:40 AM. When the redundancies failed to kick in two minutes later the cave had been alerted. Wayne had been on hand, but Terry himself had been helping a friend elsewhere. The event had been logged and monitored, but not fully investigated until the next night.

The police had come and gone during the day, cordoning off a trio of small glass cases by one wall. The three artifacts that had been taken had been chosen carefully. Nearby cases that held items of equal or greater value had been left untouched. Naturally the police had checked for fingerprints, electrical signatures, and done an elementary DNA sweep. According to what Wayne pulled off their hard drives there was no conclusive evidence.

Terry was guessing that this case hadn't been given a very high priority. The police did have a lot of resources at their disposal, but they had to be very selective about where those resources were allocated. This particular theft had not been discovered until the morning rounds, by which time the thieves had been gone for hours. Nothing they had taken could generally be called dangerous. The final closing point was that no one had been hurt. There wasn't even any psychological damage, given that there were no witnesses at all.

All the signs pointed to someone competent if not professional. Which meant that, given their head start, it would be extremely difficult to find them, let alone catch them with enough evidence to put them away. The resources allocated this case were therefore minimal.

That was not the case with Wayne. Using the systems at his disposal Wayne had managed to find no less than four cameras in the local area that had caught glimpses of the thieves. By the evening after the theft he had tracked them back to their poor excuse for a hideout.

Terry had gone in expecting a struggle, but not much of a real fight. What he had found was much different. Only one of the three thieves that Wayne had identified was there. He and two others had been turned to stone, or to be more precise a dense clay almost ceramic in nature.

The stolen artifacts had been among the belongings nearby. Terry had retrieved them, bringing them back to the cave for an initial analysis. While Bruce was busy with that, Terry had headed back out in search of the missing two thieves. They had apparently been working for hire since he found them spending more than they could afford in a crowded nightclub and a drug den respectively. Both of them had records, so it wasn't hard to set up enough circumstantial evidence for the police to hold them until something more damning was found.

Terry had returned to the cave to find Wayne unhappy. Bruce Wayne was never exactly cheerful but Terry had known him long enough to see that the situation had made a U-turn around normal and was now barreling straight towards bizarre. It happened like that sometimes, more often then not if he told the truth. That didn't mean he had to like it though.

The following conversation had led him to where he was standing now.

Scott's face remained mostly neutral throughout the story. He had only started showing real emotions towards the end. He had actually winced when Terry had described finding the people turned to stone. Then his face had turned contemplative, only to harden as the story drew to a conclusion.

"These artifacts, are you sure you found them all?"

Terry crossed his arms in a casually insolent gesture. "I retrieved everything that was stolen. If there are other pieces to the collection than the museum didn't own them."

Alan Scott turned away from the window. His bearing had changed. Before he had acted like a kind of teacher, someone with calm experience. As he moved to stand behind his desk again Terry noted that his center of balance was lower, his shoulders were held slightly down and back. Most notably, the fingers on his right hand flexed in a seemingly unconscious gesture. Something in the story had pushed a button, several buttons probably if he was all of a sudden tensing for a fight.

Scott reached forward, drawing out the chair behind his desk. Instead of sitting down however, he motioned for Terry to take the chair.

"If you would. I'll need to take a look at the artifacts before I'm sure of anything."

The desk was at least equipped with holo-projectors. It was the matter of barely a few minutes to have the digital copies that Wayne had made circling above the desk. The mortar, pestle, and vile appeared as constructs of green light, which Terry found appropriate. Alan Scott enlarged them one at a time, looking them over as closely as Wayne had. Terry didn't try to bring attention to the symbols, but that didn't stop Scott from finding them.

He enlarged one of the symbols until it would've filled a page. He then spent the next several minutes rotating it, reversing it, and looking at it from every possible angle. He waved a hand through the holograms to disperse them, when he was finished. He sat once more, looking at Terry at an angle.

"What do you know about these artifacts?"

Terry shifted slightly in his chair. "Personally, or what I have access to?"

Scott smiled, "Just off the top of your head. If these are what I think they are then there's a story behind them. No need to rehash what you already know."

"I know that the museum didn't know much about them. According to them the dates for these artifacts were known but not their original owners, or pretty much anything else. It's pretty clear what they were probably used for. Give me a few minutes and I can find out who owned them for the past 200 years or so."

Alan Scott was shaking his head. "That's all fine, but it has nothing to do with why these artifacts are valuable. This symbol," He brought up the image of what Terry had originally thought was a maker's mark. "Three letters, translated into the modern alphabet: H. N. X. They are the initials of a man, or an organization, that was heavily invested in the process and teachings of alchemy. He or they are known to have acted around 1250 A.D. in some circles you can still find stories circling about them. They were said to have ties to both the church and the state. They were connected to the Templars. If some or any of the rumors are true has been lost to time.

"Whatever the original purpose was, we know that they were some of the first to achieve what they did. You see, at the time magic was much more common. Because of its nature however it was distrusted. And because you had to be born with the gift most times, one would imagine there was a considerable amount of resentment towards anyone who practiced the art.

"Lords and kings may hire practitioners to attack their enemies, or to do what they can for the land, but if they could find another way…. That was what HNX was. They were trying to create modern science, but they were going about it with a background of magic.

"Some people theorize that they succeeded in a way. The magical theory gets rather complicated, but the essence is that they stumbled on enough of the natural laws, combining them with the process of creating and activating charms, to create something that anyone could use.

"By its very nature that kind of spell, at least in theory, would degrade rather quickly. Finding things that HNX possessed has never turned into a major treasure hunt. Naturally there are collectors though."

Terry rolled his eyes and made a rolling gesture with one hand. "Already ruled out a collector. What else?"

"Care to explain that logic?"

Did he really not get it or was this another test? Terry tried to get a reading on Scott, but apart from polite curiosity the man was a blank slate. Scowling, Terry explained. "First: there's how the thieves were found, and second: even if they had been hired and double crossed the artifacts wouldn't have been there when I found their hide out."

Scott nodded. "Good logic, but I actually had a different idea. I believe that a certain collector may be the solution to this problem." He steepled his fingers on the desk in front of him. "You see, magic is complicated. It's complicated in the ways electrical engineering is complicated. It's not something that anyone can just do, without understanding the theories and connections behind the forces you're working with. HNX, in essence created a Magic for dummies for four or five spells. With the equipment they had prepared, anyone could follow what amounted to a checklist and get the same results. Results that are, by the way, anything that anyone with even a modest talent for magic, could achieve in less time."

Terry was getting that sinking feeling again. From what he was hearing these artifacts should have been pretty much harmless. But if they were harmless, Scott wouldn't have bothered to tell him all this. The man had mentioned that Terry had a problem, something someone he knew could fix. This whole situation was just cementing his opinion of magic as being insane.

"Bottom line it." Terry said in a hard flat tone.

It was a few minutes before Alan Scott spoke. He watched Terry carefully, choosing his words. "You've retrieved the artifacts, so you've obviously handled them."

"Yes, and?"

"I have a theory about what you're thieves were trying to attempt."

"Let me guess." Terry said in a wry, not even pretending sincerity, voice. "You think the thieves were trying to re-create one of these experiments, lead into gold, elixir of life, something along those lines. Then something went wrong because they didn't have any clue what they were doing. Now, whatever they unleashed is wrecking havoc and going to blow up the city or possibly the world if I don't stop it. Is that about the shape of it?"

Alan Scott nodded once. "Essentially, though the scale of these events will not be nearly so far reaching."

"Wait, so there's no big overarching danger? The whole city isn't about to blow up or turn to stone or whatever?"

"No, it should only effect those who have handled the artifacts directly."

The silence stretched as Scott let that sink in.

"When I found the thieves, they had turned into clay. You're saying that's going to happen to everyone who touches these things from now on?"

"Three days, it should were off by then. But by that point, it will be too late for everyone effected."

"So, me and Wayne then." Terry's voice had gone slightly dry. Death was just another fact in this business, but most of the time you didn't get a chance to see it coming. Throwing yourself into battle, knowing you might die was one thing, but this. One part of his mind came up with the thought that at least by finding the artifacts before the police he had saved lives. If a forensics team had gotten their hands on these things dozens of people would've probably been affected.

"There's still the possibility I could be wrong." Alan Scott held up his right hand and the ring upon it. "It's best to be certain. May I?"

In answer Terry stood up and began to step around the desk. Alan Scott met him halfway.

"Do I have to do anything?"

Alan shook his head. "Just, don't move." He held up his right hand, and his fist began to glow. The emerald fire of his aura crept up his arm to the elbow before Alan let the gathered energy wash over the young man.

To Terry it was like feeling steam and light wash over him. It was a strange feeling, that was made no less alien by the fact that he spent most of his time in a dark cave under the earth or on the rooftops over a midnight city. Bruce made no secret of the fact that he disliked the Green lanterns. The idea of space cops running around with the power to destroy planets on their finger was something he had pointed out as a bad idea multiple times. That point of view however had always been aimed at the Green Lantern Corps which technically speaking did not include Alan Scott since his didn't come from the guardians.

In retrospect Terry realized that Bruce had never spoken about Alan Scott directly. Of course he could've just been that it'd never come up. In this case though, Terry guessed that Wayne would have mixed feelings on the matter.

The feeling lifted as Alan pulled back his hand and gazed at his ring. His expression told Terry all he needed to know. There was no sudden reprisal, their fears had been confirmed.

Terry shoved his fear into a shoebox, and threw it into a safe, buried in the deepest darkest corner of his mind. "Okay, Mr. Scott. It's your play. What now?"

"First, you stop calling me Mr. Scott. Anyone I end up working beside can call me Alan. Second, I call in a favor or two. I'm no expert on ritual magic but judging from the spell that's on you I can be fairly certain we're going to need the other pieces if this is going to be undone."

"Other pieces, right, what other pieces?"

"The full collection is a set of five pieces. Six if the mortar and pestle are counted separately."

Terry felt like banging his head into the wood of Alan's desk. He now had three days to find three slagging magical artifacts or both he and Wayne would turn to stone.

"You know, when I signed up for this job I figured that there would be a little bit of craziness, it's Gotham, right? But the bloody fantasy novel clichés I could've done without."

Terry knew the last of the artifacts would be a problem when the first of the missing pieces was located as belonging to the university of Chicago. They agreed to donate the artifact to Wayne's collection in exchange for a sizable donation. Then the second of the three was found on Ebay by Max. The bidding war was still going on for that one but with Wayne backing her Terry was certain Max would come out victorious. Then Allen had managed to locate the third missing piece on the moon. It all went down hill from there.

Terry wasn't a frequent visitor to the Justice League moon base. He didn't like visiting any of the JL's bases if he could help it. As Batman he always got one of two responses: skepticism or awe, and he wasn't particularly comfortable with either one. Plus there was no way this was going to be as easy as finding the right shelf in the trophy room.

Wayne teleported him directly to the moon base from the Batcave. Batman stepped off the platform in full costume. He looked around like he owned the place, picking out the highest ranking officer in the area as a mater of habit.

"You, has Green Lantern Scott arrived yet?"

The lackey seemed to be fairly new at this or maybe he just always stuttered.

"Yes sir, H-he requested you M-meet him on the observation deck."

Batman turned away as if deciding the man was irrelevant and marched out to find the Lantern. Luckily Wayne had made him memorize the blueprints of all League facilities after they had offered him membership, it would have ruined his image if he had had to ask for directions.

Allen was indeed on the observation deck. He stood at the windows beside one of the large decompression chambers that the heroes who could survive the vacuum of space used to come and go. Unlike all the other green lanterns his costume wasn't the traditional skin tight body suit. Allen wore a lose fitting red shirt with his own variation of the lantern emblem on the chest. He wore dark green pants and red leather boots. Across his shoulders hung a dark green cape with a purple lining. His token domino mask was a matching purple. It was about as mismatched as you could get without adding pokadots and stripes but Batman had to admit the man made a statement. Anyone who saw that figure would know exactly who they were dealing with and exactly how screwed they were.

That bad feeling he had been having settled into a nice comfy chair with a book; it wasn't going anywhere.

"The artifact?"

"And good evening to you Batman."

"Don't. I have less then two days before I turn to stone and any second now you're going to tell me the bad news about this last artifact. Can we please skip the etiquette lessons?"

"Given where we're going, etiquette is one of the greatest weapons we have."

"See, that right there, that is what's telling me I should be back home punching out Jokers, not out here on a dead rock in the middle of a vacuum."

Allen's expression was amused. Terry started in on the bat-glare but quickly gave it up.

"So where is this thing and what kind of crazy hoops am I going to have to jump through to get it?"

"It's in the Emerald City."

"I'm sorry, you want to say that again?"

"The Emerald City, on the far side of the moon."

Terry just starred at Allen's completely straight face. Dear god, he wasn't joking. "Frag." He turned to look out over the barren landscape of the moon. "Okay, hit me."

Allen turned to the windows as well, collecting his thoughts. "I will assume you are familiar enough with League history to skip the bigger points. Suffice it to say that my daughter Jenny was chosen to come back to life during the event referred to as Brightest Day. She had died as a member of the Green Lantern Core so her body was on Oa when she was resurrected. Before she returned to earth she caught the attention of the Starheart. It came with her back to earth."

"Hold up. I thought you got your power from the Starheart."

"That's true, but the original fragment that fell to earth was only a shard of the whole. In reality the Starheart is chaos magic that was crystallized using Green energy, Will, by the Guardians of the Universe. That was long before they built the Core, or even the Manhunters. The Starheart was lost in space but somehow a fraction of it broke away and came to earth. I tamed that shard, tapping into the green energy to manipulate the chaos at it's core. Then Jenny came home and the core of the Starheart followed. It's power wrecked havoc. The full report is in the files so I won't bore you with the details. To get to the point the final battle happened here on the moon, or rather on the far side of the moon. The Starheart had possessed me and with my mind it created a city, or a castle at first but it turned into a city later. When I regained my senses it remained. Soon after that magical beings from the realms close to Earth started using it as a kind of neutral ground. As more creatures arrived the city grew to accommodate them. It's almost become it's own pocket dimension, but the easiest way in, especially for people without magic of their own, is still up here. Someone in the beginning called it the Emerald City as a joke and the name stuck.

"I have a lot of influence there because even though the Starheart mostly makes the city on it's own I can still control it. I'm the Lord of the city, I've been called the Baron, the Harold."

"The Wizard?" Terry glanced sideways and Allen matched his subtle grin.

"If you like. Though a proper wizard might be insulted."

"Hence why etiquette is so important?"

"Yes. I'll be able to steer you away from the worst of it, but you'll have to speak for yourself when it comes down to it. My son Obsidian is the one who found it. He's a kind of caretaker for a section of the Emerald City called the Nightside. I'll be able to tell you more about what you'll be facing once we've spoken to him."

Well, at least Batman wasn't going to be disappointed in the weirdness department. It was nice to know someone had his back even if Allen couldn't do more then give advice going in. That was what he was used to in any case. Plus if he actually admitted it, he was curious. The old man's distrust of Magic had definitely influenced him and his own experiences with magic hadn't exactly been the best. His current, slowly turning to stone, situation was totally included. And still a part of him wanted to see it.

"Alright then, what are we waiting for? Bring on the crazy."

They approached the gates to the Emerald City in a green bubble conjured by Allen, floating along maybe ten feet of the lunar surface. Batman wasn't exactly overjoyed with this part of the journey. The moon base was one thing and Allen assured him there was breathable air beyond the city gates, but Batman was in no way a space hero. Give him a nice grimy city any day over this barren chunk of space debris. Not that he hadn't picked up a few moon rocks for Matt but beyond that the moon was empty. He trusted Allen, he really did, but the thought that there was only a single layer of hard light construct between him and asphyxiation was sending serious chills down his spine.

Then he saw the city and all thoughts of death by vacuum were pushed aside.

It was beautiful. Shimmering green glass spires rose over bulwarks of dark green stone. Arches formed tunnels lined in verdant carvings, coiling into grottos where emerald light and soft shadow played, hinting at more that couldn't quite be seen. Spiral staircases led up to terraces draped in flittering banners that were all the colors of spring and summer leaves. Every piece of architecture was engraved, embossed or had inlay patterning it's surface with intricate designs and detailed stories.

The people, if you could call them people, were just as amazing as their surroundings. Storybook creatures walked beside terrors. Animals in fancy dress were passed by tall elves in golden robes. Miniature figures clothed only in clouds of light zipped up and down the streets riding clockwork birds and glass dragonflies. Red skinned satyrs spoke with green skinned dryads on street corners. Bubbles of water glided down the street containing several large glowing carp. A man with features covering in scales tapped his alligator shoes impatiently while waiting for a trunk to be unloaded from a horse and buggy, that happened to be pulled by a clydesdale sized bright pink unicorn. A china doll with a frilly blue dress was playing ball with a large black hound with three glowing red eyes. Shopkeepers of all shapes and sizes called out their wares to the crowd whose members could not be identified.

And that was only what Batman could see through the arched gates.

Allen let his bubble dissolve and Batman found himself standing on moss colored cobblestones facing a pair of knights. The two figures armor was lacquered green, their shields bore a lantern crest that mostly looked like a stylized version of Allen's own symbol. When he approached they saluted with swords writhed in green flame.

"At ease, guardsmen. Let it be known to all who serve the Lantern that this man is my guest." Allen gestured at Batman. "He has come to me for help and I have granted him a boon. He is heir to the mantle of the Bat and will be given freedom and curtsey within my halls."

Only when Allen was finished did the gatekeepers stand aside for Batman to enter the citadel. He stepped forward and tried very hard not to look like he was impressed. Batman was no stranger to cities but this one defied all his expectations. Every city he had ever been to followed certain patterns. There had to be room for things like wiring and plumbing and the buildings had to obey certain laws, like gravity. Here that didn't seem to be the case.

Allen spoke again, this time to him and Batman fought his attention back to the lord of this domain. "The guards wont cause you any trouble now, and they'll pass on the word to others so that no public area will be barred to you. They'll also stand with you in a fight but don't push it. As my guest you have the right to protection but if you insult someone they can still fairly call you to a dual. Be careful what you agree to as well, oaths are binding here. Oh, and any major property damage will be seen as an insult to me and my creations, which I would be forced to take very seriously."

Allen paused to underline his words. Batman may not have know what very seriously translated to but he figured it would be safer not to find out first hand.

"Now, the nightside tower is some ways away. Should I provide transportation or would you prefer to fly?" Allen went on as if maters were settled.

Batman looked at Allen, silently thanking him. A flight would certainly give him a chance to clear his head and mentally get back on track. Plus it would give him a chance to look at this place from the air. "I'll Fly."

Allen nodded. "This way." his aura lifted the Lantern off the ground and a moment later his cape was billowing out in the nonexistent wind. Batman launched off the ground flipping open his wings and kicking the jets in his boots to life. Everything in his suit still seemed to be working at least, that was a plus.

The Emerald City was just as impressive from above, not least of all because the two heroes were hardly alone in the skies. Ships launched themselves up from platforms below, dirigibles and clockwork flying machines hovered between towers. Griffins, Pegasus, and dragons of all sizes and colors navigated their way through the skyways. After the first few minutes Batman just did his best to keep up with Allen and not crash into anyone or anything. Traffic rules seemed to be functionally nonexistent.

As they moved through the city Batman noticed a subtle but growing pattern in the colors below them. The greens were getting darker. The colors of the people were also shifting taking on more flashes of red and purple and midnight blue. Then their destination loomed ahead and Batman had no trouble picking out the Nightside tower from the other spires scattered across the skyline.

The tower stood against the black of the lunar sky like a knife's edge, spines and gargoyles were the features that stood out. Unlike the rest of the city the tower and the area below it, presumably the nightside, didn't glow. The structures were an unpolished green that was so dark it might as well have just been black. What light there was, was produced by green paper lanterns hanging from strings like rows of car lights.

Green Lantern landed on an upper balcony of the tower and slipped into the softly lit room through a set of double doors.

The interior was surprisingly similar to Allen's office. The furnishings were mostly old knotted wood. Couches stood before a green fire in the large hearth. Books waited on a pair of shelves and a surprisingly modern looking sound system was hooked up to speakers in the corners of the room.

As soon as the balcony doors were shut behind them Batman felt a shiver go up his spine and he knew without a doubt that there was someone else in the room. Allen seemed to notice his tension and chuckled lightly.

"It's alright. Batman I'd like you to meet my son. Obsidian, this is the new Batman." the Green Lantern gestured to the room in general. Batman looked around for the other person, until a moment later a group of shadows shifted, growing. A moment later it wasn't just shadows he was looking at. A man stood behind the farthest of the couches.

Obsidian was in Batman's files but it didn't really give the full impression. He was black, not african, but a dark under the earth black that seemed to drink in light until there was nothing left. His eyes were the only bit of light on him, a soft grey that looked almost white next to the rest of him. The only nod to a costume was a chain of dark opals around his waist, with another forming the color of a cape that seemed to be grey and pale blue and purple all at once.

"You didn't tell me Batman was the one who wanted it." Obsidian's voice was low dozens of layers of subtleties sliding just under the surface.

"Well, it's not any Batman you've met before. Will it be a problem." Batman almost expected Allen to reach out, put a hand on his son's shoulder, but he didn't. As if to make up for it Allen's voice was full of old emotions.

Obsidian looked from Allen to Batman and rolled his shoulders in a non-comital shrug. "How much do you know about magic."

Batman went ahead and said what he had been thinking since this whole thing began. "It's a fragging pain."

"Right, I don't suppose you know anything about native American myths?"

Batman shrugged. "I've never studied any of it. Everything I do know is from movies and books so most of it is probably wrong."

Obsidians features darkened further until Batman could barely make them out. "Well, at least you're not ignorant of your ignorance."

"Todd?" Lantern stepped forward again looking concerned, and holding himself back from touching his son.

Obsidian waved him off. "What you're looking for is currently owned by Coyote. His nature shifts around so everything you've heard is both right and very, very wrong. He's constantly playing one game or another and mostly you just have to hope he's not interested in you. He's a trickster and a thief. He tells stories and lies. He values cleverness and collects trinkets, priceless gems and bottle caps alike depending on what catches his eye. Don't walk into his lair with anything you aren't prepared to lose." Obsidian considered what he had said, collecting himself again. "You can probably get the artifact, but the real question is what you'll have to trade for it."

Batman looked to Allen for confirmation.

"It's accurate enough from what I can remember. I haven't had dealings with Coyote myself."

"That's it then? Go in and bargain for it and hope I don't say something wrong and end up insulting him? If I get this wrong he'll kill me or curse me or something wont he? I don't suppose I could bring backup?"

"This is a personal matter between two individuals. Unless one of you breaks the laws of the city I can't intervene, and as one of my appointed champions Obsidian is in the same position."

Well he had been expecting the worst. Glad to know he wasn't going to be disappointed. "Fine, someone get me some pants. I'm not going to risk losing the suit to some native trickster god."

Terry ended up settling on black leather pants, and a deep red silk shirt. Obsidian had produced a storm grey cloak with an elegant bat clasp that fell to just past his knees and helped him blend in to the general population. With a domino mask and an older version of the belt he felt as prepared as he was ever going to be. At this point he mostly wanted to never have to deal with magic again.

Allen, or maybe his son, provided a red open toped carriage pulled by a pair of night black horses. They apparently didn't require direction, pulling into the strange traffic as soon as he was settled. Batman tried not to look like he was gawking at everything around him, while his eyes behind his opaque white lenses danced from one odd sight to the next.

The carriage rolled through the streets, finally coming to a stop in front of a structure of canvas and wooden frames. Somehow the yurt didn't look out of place on the busy thoroughfare. The rough fabric and animal hides were dozens of shades of interlocking green, some so dark they looked almost black, but through the seams a shifting red-gold light danced out onto the street.

Stepping out of the carriage Terry was bowed through a curtained doorway by a shadow with white mirror eyes. The inside of the structure was like a different dimension from the outside. For one thing there was a surprising lack of green.

On the inside the structure was hot and smoky with sullen red firelight that seemed to emanate from the old cured hides as much as from the glowing embers in the central pit. Strings of dried herbs hung in bunches near the walls beside old animal skulls and woven rugs that not only covered the floor, but had advanced to creeping up the walls. Woven baskets were stacked like boxes in the corners. The whole place felt hot and stuffy, the walls pressing in while the ceiling hung just low enough that Terry felt the need to duck even though it wasn't actually necessary.

There were two low camp chairs on either side of the fire pit, and Terry went up to look at them. The clutter mostly followed a pattern though there were enough oddities that the old blue and white plaid wasn't too far from the mark.

"I'm looking for Coyote." he said into the empty space.

"Of course you are, but the question is, is he looking for you?"

The voice wasn't male or female and it shifted octaves seemingly at random. It also seemed to emanate from an old antlered scull on the wall to his left. Terry considered. This was probably fairly standard for a first introduction to a Native American god and he was probably supposed to say some special phrase in order to gain an audience or show his respect.

To hell with that. "No, don't think so." he stuck his hands in his pockets and continued looking around, apparently completely at ease. Baiting secretaries was something he knew how to do, didn't matter if they were human or prehistoric sculls.

"Well then, that's good. I was afraid I had missed a message of some kind." the skull stepped forward and brought the tapestry behind it along for the ride. The figure stepped out of the wall and crouched for a moment as if trying to decide whether it was going to walk on two legs or four. It peered over at Terry who did his best not to shift under the sudden intense gaze. Under the tapestry the creature was a smooth black with what might have been tattoos or might have been fir patterns in iridescent red and blue stripes.

Coyote, Terry was fairly certain this was Coyote, didn't seem to have a solid shape. It didn't flow like Ink but it did shift. In a way it was like looking at one of those optical illusions, where if you twisted your head one way you saw a vase, while looking from another angle showed a pair of women. Terry just couldn't see all of it at once. He didn't try.

Terry fixed his eyes on the antlered skull and decided to speak to that even if it was more a mask then a face. "I'm looking for something. I was told you had it so I came to ask for myself."

"Oh really?" and Coyote was definitely on four legs now creeping low across the ground towards the two chairs. "And what might this prize be?"

"An artifact."

"Well that's boring, just any old artifact? You can do better then that." Coyote had reached the chair and crawled his way into it. He now appeared to be sitting legs crossed with the tapestry folded over him like a blanket.

"A specific artifact." Terry allowed, "Don't take this the wrong way, but from what I've heard, the minute you know I want it you'll snatch it up like the last slice of christmas cake. That would be against my interests since I want to make a deal."

"A deal. A deal, a dealydeal. Don't think I can make you a deal, maybe an agreement or a trade or an arrangement or even a bargain but no not a deal."

"I'll settle for a transaction, or a sale."

"A compromise? What about a contract?"

"Not a contract, but I might be persuaded to come to an understanding on a set of terms."

The creature under the hood was grinning, Terry could tell.

"I had heard the bat was a silent specter, not a wordsmith."

"I'm the new model." Terry didn't bother stoping the self-satisfied smile that briefly slipped over his features.

"What you want, whatever you want, why do you want it?" Coyote was rocking back and forth in his seat like there was some kind of drum beat that Terry couldn't hear going on in the background.

"It's part of a puzzle."

"Oh I like puzzles. Is it one of those ones with the pictures of kittens or houses on it?"

"No it's more of a, one of these things is not like the other, kind of deal."

A hand came out of the wrappings and scratched at the scull as if it was a hat that was sitting slightly wrong. The hand looked perfectly human except for being pitch black, until at the last moment it seemed to grow talons.

"Is it bigger then a bread box?"

"Don't know, never actually seen it. And no one uses bread boxes anymore."

Coyote tittered. Terry had a sudden vivid idea why the Joker had gotten under so many people's skin.

"So you want this mysterious something, but wont say what it is, except that you are willing to negotiate for it."

Terry shrugged. "That's about right."

"Well, that's not fair." Coyote's voice turned to pouting. "how am I supposed to know what it's worth if I don't know what it is?"

Terry considered his next move. Then he decided that trying to plan for the reaction of a trickster was probably something not even the old man could do. Best to just roll with the punches. He took the seat across from Coyote, settling in.

"To business then. I'm looking for an old pare of tongs, circular handles, made of bronze part of a HNX set."

The skull cocked to one side as if in thought. For a moment the rug slipped and Terry could see the red and blue stripes sliding across coyote's flesh like the coils of a snake.

"And what is it worth to you?"

Terry had considered this bit very carefully. When bargaining you always tried to downplay how much you wanted the object but in this case it was a very real possibility that Coyote would just get board and leave if he bid too low.

"That depends."

"On what?"

"Many things. If you have it, where it is, how long it will take to retrieve, when It will be available, What condition it is in."

"You want it right away?"

"I will say this. I certainly wont have any interest in it a week from now if I don't walk out of here with it today. I tend to lose interest quickly and am on something of a deadline."

"A, dead, line." Coyote drew out the words as if the concept was one he understood on in academic terms, and had never really gotten applied to real world situations. Or maybe he was just taunting him, who knew.

"I have it." he says a moment later and gestures at one of the numerous baskets piled up along the west wall.

Terry nodded and waited. He had already decided he wasn't going any further until he had at least seen the artifact, confirmed it was actually what he was looking for. Coyote waited as well, seeming to watch the young man before him from under the tapestry wrapped around him.

Coyote was the one to relent first. He seemed to grow board, shrugging as if he didn't care one way or the other. He whistled and one of the shadow, glass eyed men came in. there seemed to be a brief non-verbal conversation before the servant bowed and went searching through one of the baskets by the wall. A minute later the shadow man returns, and offers a worn set of copper tongs to Coyote. Coyote looked then gestured for them to be handed to Terry. Terry studied the tongs, quickly verifying they were what he was looking for.

"So." Coyote was almost purring. "What are they worth to you?"

Terry considered lying, but a lie could always get twisted and he had an idea now even if it was a totally crazy one.

"It's worth my life." he said with utter and complete honesty.

Coyote was definitely purring now. "Is it? Well, I'm not sure I could ever be convinced to part with something so valuable, here give it back to me."

Terry pulled his arms in a little closer to his chest as if hesitant to part with the artifact.

"Come now, it's still mine until a deal is struck, and you don't seem the type to offer you life."

Terry looked down at the artifact. He opened his mouth, then paused and had to take a breath before speaking. "What if I gave you something else?"

"What could you have to offer that might equal the value of life?"

"Knowledge. I know what's going to happen. My future."

Coyote leaned in over the fire. "You know your fate?"

"Will you take the deal? Not my life, but everything I know about my fate?"

Coyote leaned back, first sitting up straight, then hunching in on himself. A brown paw of a hand came out from the rug and tapped at his knee. He looked one way then the other as if visibly searching for what he might have missed. Finally he leaned in again, pointing the claw at Terry.

"Who is to say you know anything at all?"

"My word on it. I will even say … " Terry paused as if considering. "as a gesture, and proof. Three days."

Coyote's rug was close enough to the fire that it should have been catching alight; he was leaning that far forward. He waited. Terry just nodded and settled back. Coyote was bristling, eager to hear more, but still looking for the trap. When it became clear that Terry wasn't going to say anything else Coyote slumped in his seat, his head falling to one side.

"Alright." he said breathless, then, "Alright!" and he was full of energy once more. Coyote's voice took on a sly note. "But I want your half first."

Terry seemed to consider, then pushed himself to his feet. "Alright, but I'll need to get something first."

Coyote was suddenly up and across to Terry, before Terry could even start to move. "this is still mine." Coyote declared snatching the tongs back and polishing them on the carpet he was wearing.

"Alright." Terry said without any intonation. He started towards the curtained doorway.

"And you can't leave."Coyote snapped. "Not until we're done."

Terry paused one hand already gripping the curtain. "There's something I need, but I guess I could ask a friend to bring it to me."

"Yes," Coyote was humming again in pleasure. "Have someone fetch it."

Terry nodded and pulled aside the curtain, gesturing for Coyote to precede him.

Terry stepped out into the green world. His mind was already picking out the stepping stones that he would need if this was to work. Somehow the green light even as accented by black as it was here in the nightside was a comfort. He couldn't be sure what the rules were in Coyote's own personal realm, but here he had at least one ally on his side, and it was time to call him in.

The closest of the Emerald knights was standing stiffly on the corner. It might have been a stature until it met Terry's eyes at his approach.

"I would like to make a request of your lord." Terry said in a clear voice that expected to be obeyed. "I need one of the items I left with him brought here."

The knight's eyes flashed briefly then he nodded. Terry waited but the knight didn't move again, finally he was forced to conclude that the message had been sent , and he returned to where Coyote was waiting.

When a carriage nearly identical to the one he had been loaned pulled to a stop in front of him, Terry was surprised to find not Allen Scott, but Obsidian riding in it. The young man stepped down the carriage steps despite being able to fly with ease. Obsidian wasn't carrying anything but Terry didn't doubt that he was here only at Terry's request.

Obsidian nodded to him, glanced over at Coyote, then got down to business. "You needed something?"

"Yes, something from my belt. Coyote and I have settled on a deal."

As Terry had hoped Coyote launched into the story, taunting Terry about his desperation and how really it was a kindness that Coyote was doing more than anything else because who else would possibly trade away their future for an old copper kitchen utensil. Obsidian listened with polite interest while he fished around in the folds of his cape, finally coming up with Terry's belt. Terry detached one of the pouches, holding it up for the eyes of everyone in the area. Coyote's eyes behind his skull of a mask were a bright and piercing gold.

"It less then three days, this will be my fate, and there is no way I can stop it."

Coyote reached for the bag, but Terry pulled it back just out of reach.

"I give you this, you give me that." Terry pointed at the copper tongs that Coyote still held. "strait trade."

"Yes, yes." Coyote said reaching for the bag again.

Terry was looking at Obsidian as he let the bag fall into Coyote's now scaled palm. Coyote snatched the small pouch out of the air, tossing the tongs to Terry in an offhand way. It was as if he just wanted that hand free to fondle the pouch.

Terry stepped back a pace and passed the tongs to Obsidian. "Hold these for me?" he was just in time. A moment later Coyote had the pouch open and was howling rage.

Coyote's hands became the claws of a wolf as he grabbed Terry by the collar and had him pressed up against the side of the carriage. His bone mask slid to one side and Terry caught a glimpse of a dark fired muzzle.

"Stones." Coyote growled. "there's nothing here but salt and stones."

The wold went dark and the cold of the airless moonscape seemed to break through into the Emerald City. Terry found himself wrapped in tendrils of living shadow, and had to force himself not to lash out in panic, or scream. Green seemed to erupt into his vision when the shadows were finally pulled away. Terry sucked in air like he was drowning, although he couldn't remember it had been hard to breath in the darkness or not. There were so many shades of green, so vivid, Terry could hardly separate them, until finally he forced calm over his senses and his limbs, pulling things back under his control. He was still standing on the road outside Coyote's yurt, but he had been moved to the other side of the carriage from where he had been standing before and Obsidian now stood between him and Coyote.

No time had passed, or little enough that it didn't matter. Coyote was not snarling at Obsidian, but he didn't seem willing to go straight out and attack him.

"Think carefully, do you really want to do this?" Obsidian asked in a low tone.

"He lies, false deal, he is mine now."

"No, It's true." Terry knew speaking up now probably wasn't the best idea but when had that ever stopped him. "In less then three days, less then two days now, I will turn to stone. It's a curse, and I have no talent for magic so there's nothing I can do about it."

Coyote's eyes swept back and forth from Terry to Obsidian. After a handful of long minutes Coyote drew back and wrapped himself in his tapestry again, seeming to pull himself together in the process. He snatched the pouch that Terry had filled with moon rocks earlier that evening and retreated back to his own domain.

Terry let the tension go out of his shoulders.

Obsidian turned to look at Terry. After another long minute he spoke. "You did that deliberately? You have to be one of the craziest people I've ever met. You do realize he's a demigod, right?"

Terry shrugged. "I thought crazy was a prerequisite. Besides I was pretty sure lying to someone as good at it as he's supposed to be would get me killed."

Obsidian snorted and shook his head. "Crazy." he just said again and pulled himself up into the carriage. When he offered a hand, Terry took it to climb up beside him. Obsidian passed the tongs back to him. Hell of a fuss for such a ridiculous little trinket. Then they started back towards the nightside tower.

What Terry had told Coyote was true. On his own there was nothing he could do to stop the curse. Luckily, he knew people, and people who knew people. By the time Allen Scott had flown them both back to Gotham, chuckling the whole way at Terry's audacity, Scott's friend, Zachery Zattara was waiting for them. The ritual was set up and ready to go.

With the piece that Terry collected, they had the whole set, although the piece Max had been bidding on wouldn't arrive until first thing in the morning. She had payed extra but she was still grumbling over the inadequacies of the postal system. All in all it wasn't until 7:15 the next morning that his 'fate' was changed

He got back to school in time for second period.

Note:

I can't believe this is finally done. Seriously I've been working on this story for ages. I started it at the same time as Apathy, but I kept getting stuck and just staring at the page wondering what should happen next. The first half was written over six months before the rest of it, longer even. Still, I really enjoyed the writing when it wasn't driving me crazy. Allen Scott is one of my favorite characters and I have several ideas about Obsidian. By the way, I didn't invent the Emerald City idea. Allen really does create a city on the back side of the moon. Check out the brightest day storyline for the Justice League and JSA if you want the full story.


End file.
